


Get Lucky

by AbusiveLittleBun



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Break Up, Cheating, Come Swallowing, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Depression, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Violence, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff and Humor, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Physical Abuse, Rough Oral Sex, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, Slurs, Slut Shaming, Sugar Baby Tommy Shelby, Verbal Abuse, to me personally
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:09:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29901570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbusiveLittleBun/pseuds/AbusiveLittleBun
Summary: Number 12 for the Peaky Rare Pair Bingo: Urgency for SexTommy gets a bit of help with moving into his new apartment by his new neighbor, James. The new place however comes with new challenges...
Relationships: Chester Campbell/Tommy Shelby, James/Tommy Shelby, Tommy Shelby/Alfie Solomons
Comments: 26
Kudos: 37
Collections: Peaky Blinders Rare Pair Bingo 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this got out of hand and was initially a one-shot so I don't expect it to escalate beyond a few chapters but this is an idea that plagued my mind for quite a while now. 
> 
> This is separate from the Falling for Danger series, but I'll continue that as well shortly!
> 
> Song Inspiration:  
> Daft Punk - Get Lucky (Pretty Pink Edit & Daughter cover) Slowed Reverb Remix

"Is this the last of it?"

"Yes, Curly, thank you, I've got it from here," Tommy sighed as his uncle put the last box in the entrance of the hall, right on top of two others, "you've been a great help. I appreciate it."

"Are you sure you don't want us to carry it up to your flat? What floor are you on?" Charlie grumbled from where he was leaning against the truck door, observing the tall apartment building.

"No, thank you, you've already done more than enough. This little exercise will do me good. Besides, there's a lift; I won't be straining myself," Tommy gave a light hug enveloping both Curly and Charlie, "I'll be fine. I swear."

They both returned the hug with more enthusiasm. Curly still wanted to help a bit more, but Charlie just patted him with a reassuring smile and nodded in understanding.

"Alright, Tom, we know this is for the best. Decorating can clear the mind, help you focus," Tommy wondered when did Charlie become one of those gay uncles that cared for home decor. It must have been Curly's influence, "You grew up so fast, kiddo, getting your own place and all that, with the fancy London job. If you don't visit once a month, we'll tear your door down and force you to eat. God knows you wouldn't lick a crumb on your own."

"I gave you the chicken soup recipe, right? And the potato pie?" Curly nodded eagerly by his side. Tommy smiled tightly, thinking that he'll most probably not be making those anytime soon.

"Yes, you did, and don't worry, I'll call."

Tommy waved them goodbye as their truck departed and finally managed to scrub the sad smile off his face and focus on the five moving boxes by his feet. He sighed again and closed his eyes, mentally preparing for the task ahead. 

Moving houses was never an easy task, but this was more than necessary. No more cleaning after the others, no more family shouting down the hall, no more waking up to Arthur and John or maybe Polly and Ada, bursting through the door at an ungodly hour, drunk off their brains. He used to beg God for one day of freedom from doing other's laundry or just an hour of peace and quiet, and now he will finally get it all in a new home. 

This place is a very well-respected neighborhood, clean and modern building, not far from his new job, only an overground ride away, and he got it all covered. Thanks to Campbell. God, he made sure he was closer to his townhouse than his actual job, barely a ten-minute walk, the greedy bastard. But Tommy knew he should be grateful rather than pissy about the situation. He chose this life.

He tugged back the sleeves of his sweater from his fingers and lifted the first one with a huff, already regretting his decision of independence. And also his lack of prior exercise.

Tommy thought his frame only seemed thin and weak next to his boxing buff brothers, but maybe he should have accompanied them to the gym before this because he already knew carrying five of these boxes up the seventh floor will leave him breathless. He tried to adjust the package on his forearms and swayed a little under the weight; this must be the "office" load, huh.

He didn't even notice that someone has been watching him until he felt the weight in his hands considerably lighten.

"Whoa, let me get that for you," came a kind, youthful voice, "I got you."

Tommy was in a bit of confusion until the box was gently lifted away from him and met a pair of happy hazel green eyes peeking at him from the other side of it. Way higher than he would have expected. Damn, he was tall.

The kind stranger in question was a young man, probably a university student, in a grey hoodie with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. He had half an earbud still in, while the other bounced on his broad chest as he handled the heavy package without any visible strain on his smiling face. It was also a very handsome face, if Tommy may remark. Boyish, but in a charming way; curly brown hair, freckles, and dimples. And very prominent ears. But broad shoulders and sculpted frame like an athlete.

If Tommy didn't have a firm preference towards older men, he would have let his imagination wander.

"No, it's okay, I'm fine, really," Tommy started, feeling a bit awkward as he saw the other man put the box down on another one and begin to lift them together with ease. He was strong. "You don't have to do this."

"I know, but I would like to if you don't mind," the boy seemed genuinely cheerful and selfless; he reminded Tommy of a labrador, "What floor are you on, by the way? I'll just put them in the lift for you if you get it."

Tommy hesitated for a few moments; the kid really didn't seem like he was out to do him any harm. And he was attractive. But he shouldn't think about this now, not after what got him here; he has to focus on other things for his own good. 

Tommy cleared his throat and called the lift before picking up another box, only to get immediately overwhelmed by the weight and put it on top of another one. 

"Seven."

"Ah, me too! Flat seventy-four!" Why was this boy so happy? "I haven't seen you before, though, so I'm guessing by the boxes you're new, right? I'm James, by the way."

Tommy hummed as the elevator doors opened, and he nudged a box closer to it with his foot, letting James first step in and put down the packages in his arms. Before Tommy could pick up the one at his feet, however, James stepped back out, took it, and put it on top of the two Tommy just assembled and picked the three of them up together, balancing them carefully before stepping back in. Tommy felt his mouth open in surprise, but he couldn't help it. The boy was really fucking strong, huh.

James held open the elevator door for Tommy with a cheerful head tilt, "Coming?"

Tommy cleared his throat again, snapping out of his daze, and hesitantly stepped in, the lift not big enough with the boxes inside to stand a comfortable stance away from the taller man. He could feel the boy's breath faintly against his exposed neck and collarbone. He shouldn't have worn his borrowed oversized sweater, but it was nice to distract himself by fidgeting with his sleeves as James presses the button to the seventh floor and the doors closed.

"I moved in not that long ago too. It's been, hm, two years almost? My uni is not far off. I spent the first year in dorms, then the next two with friends, and now while I'm doing my masters, I wanted a bit of alone time, you know? I get easily distracted."

Tommy was distracted too. Mainly by his face and height. He wondered what he looked like under the hoodie; his muscular chest was already stretching it a bit. 

He let the boy ramble on as if they've been friends for a while now, not complete strangers while watching every inch of him with subtle but careful scrutiny. James seemed fit but entirely non-threatening, just some sweet college boy that was all too open with people and eager to please. 

And he smelled good too. Boys his age usually had the scent of some cheap aftershave and commercial deodorant that was always too much and could kill a man in a locked room, but James smelled comforting. Like peanut butter cookies and cinnamon. It was a slightly familiar scent.

"Do you work in a bakery?" Tommy barely registered that he spoke his question aloud until he realized the boy was bashfully laughing because of it.

"Ah, yes, I do, part-time in the Aerated Bread Bakery and Café. Have you been there before? Sorry if I didn't recognize you; we get a lot of customers."

"No, I haven't; I'm new in the area. You just smell nice," Tommy bit at his lower lip in embarrassment. Why the fuck did he say that? He has to save this, somehow. "You smell like a friend of mine. He, uh, he works in a place like that too. That's why. Pastries." Nice one, Thomas, real smooth. Bring up your fucking regular Grindr date.

"Oh, thank you. You smell nice too." James rubbed at the back of his neck and gave an awkward chuckle. Fuck, did Tommy make him uncomfortable? And it's only his first day in the new place. "Like mint. And violets. Sweet."

"Yeah, gum and moisturizer." Tommy swallowed, but thankfully the doors opened the next second on their floor. He let out a relieved sigh and wiped his sweating palms on his black jeans, "Alright, thank you, I'll just take it from here."

James picked up the three-box pile and put it out of the elevator quickly before taking the two-box one too, "Ah, don't worry, I've got time. Which one is your flat? I'll help you carry some in if you get the door."

Tommy hesitated again, he already let James do more than he should have, but he also didn't want to shake him off rudely. What he didn't want to admit to himself was that the boy's considerable strength was all too appealing not to watch some more as well. He had a weakness for men that were considerably stronger than him. 

He licked his lips in thought, noticing how James followed the movement with his eyes, and that prompted him to quickly nod and turn to open the lock on his door. He willed himself to calm down. He's not checking you out, Thomas; you're just a narcissist. 

"Oh, sweet, you're in seventy-three? We're proper neighbors then!" James said as he brought the three-box pile through the door. Tommy was wondering if he only imagined the slight tremor in his voice at first. "Where do you want me to put these?"

"Just in the middle, please." The apartment was a lot larger than Tommy remembered in the pictures, the natural light of the day seeping through the wall-length windows and illuminating the hardwood floor and white walls. It wasn't overly spacious, but it seemed like a fucking mansion compared to his old little room at home. The kitchen was at one end of the main room, built in the wall and separated with a counter and two chairs, while the simple queen-sized bed was on the other, together with a work desk overlooking the balcony. There was also a large leather sofa in the middle, with a few furniture boxes Tommy ordered before moving in. The bathroom and storage room was on the other side of the place, and Tommy thought this really was the perfect home just for him.

Sometimes he felt a bit of guilt over getting all this by whoring himself out to Campbell and not through "honest" work, but truth be told, he honestly never felt more glad that he let the old man have a piece of him. Hell, he put honest work into riding and sucking the bastard to heaven and back for all of this. He deserved it.

The sex wasn't even bad per se; Tommy might even go out of his way and admit it was hot; he wouldn't be doing it otherwise. For someone his age, Campbell fucked him outstandingly, left him raw and limping for a week; it's just that he was a condescending piece of shit that Tommy wanted to punch in the face sometimes.

Like now, when his ass buzzed with another message from Campbell. Tommy took the phone out of his back pocket, sighing as he looked at the screen while letting James come in and out with his boxes.

_ C. Campbell: Call me when you finished unpacking.  _

Tommy scoffed as he typed his reply.

_ Me: So next week? _

_ C. Campbell: So tonight. By 7. I will take you to a restaurant, be ready by then. We have to discuss the details of your new placement. _

_ Me: This takes too much time and energy. I'll not be up to perform tonight. How about Sunday? _

_ C. Campbell: Don't be difficult, Thomas. Be ready by 7. Or I will not be making any more polite gestures tonight. _

_ Me: Will you kick down my door and drag me out by my hair if I don't want to? _

_ C. Campbell: I do not need to. I have a key as well. Now, will you be difficult, Thomas? _

Tommy bit at his bottom lip, hating how Campbell made his belly clench with irritation and arousal, his cheeks heating up as he shakily typed out his answer.

_ Me: No, daddy. _

_ C. Campbell: Good boy. Wear something pretty. _

Tommy wouldn't have noticed James standing right behind him if not for how he could hear the boy audibly inhale and swallow. Tommy whipped his head around and smashed the phone close to his chest, trying to hide the messages that James more than likely saw, with how fucking tall and close he was.

"I, uh, I just wanted to um. Wanted to say that I, uh, I p-put the boxes separately, so you don't have to do any lifting, and um, yes, I'm done, I think?" James stuttered with a red face, trying (and miserably failing) to act like he didn't just lurk and read his private messages. "If you want me to help you with anything else, knock on my door or give me a call, okay? I'll just, um. I'll write it down for you, okay?"

Tommy was still staring with wide deer in headlights eyes but took pity on the boy searching in his bag for some pen and paper, so he just opened up his contacts and shoved the phone into James' face, a bit more aggressively than needed. The other man looked so embarrassed it must have been accidental; it's not his fault Tommy has a few nasty kinks.

James chuckled as he took the phone and typed in his contact info, and Tommy tried not to let his mouth curl in amusement at the smiley added next to his name. He rang him right after, just so James has his number too, and the boy fumbled with his own phone to save his contact as well.

"So, um, Thomas, right?" James definitely read most of their texts, huh.

"I prefer Tommy."

"Oh, okay," James hesitantly looked up at him again but quickly thought better of asking the question on his mind and typed in the name. 

"Thank you again; you've been very kind." Tommy held open the door for him, clearing his throat and meeting his eyes steadily. If he acts like he has nothing to be uncomfortable about, he won't have anything to feel that way about.

"Oh, of course, anytime! I enjoyed carrying your stuff much better than going to class, if I'm honest," James chuckled, and Tommy raised a brow.

"I thought you said you had the time?"

"For you, yes," James smiled bashfully as he took a step outside before turning back hesitantly, uncertainty written on his face. "And uh, Tommy?"

He just tilted his head in reply, all too ready to close the door.

"I uh know, um," James closed his eyes for a second, trying to rethink how he should form his question, fidgeting with the strap of his bag, "I have a tough relationship with my father too, so if you ever feel like you would like to, you know, talk about it or something, I'm always here. Just so you know."

Tommy stopped breathing for a solid five seconds, first trying to comprehend what James was saying, then trying to hold in his laughter as he cleared his throat and looked anywhere but at the other man. Fuck, this kid is too pure.

"Mhm, thanks, James; I'll keep that in mind. Have a nice day, and thank you again."

Tommy closed the door so fast that James' happy reply was mostly cut off, but Tommy couldn't handle it anymore and just pressed his back against the door and slowly slid down to the ground. 

This has been a long fucking day, and it's not even noon yet.

His phone was still in his hand, so Tommy immediately saw the message freshly buzzing for his attention. Tommy's eyes rolled back into his skull at the text.

_ James :) : If you need anything at all, I'm always here! Have a nice day and enjoy your dinner with your dad! :) _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy has troubles with the coffee table and his relationship status...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you I'd update fast m8

  
Tommy laid on the ground, looking up at the ceiling and contemplating just jumping out the window. He has been unpacking all day, but it still felt like he made little to no progress. 

His clothes lay in various piles covering the bed, his CDs and records the only thing in neat columns by the couch while everything else was messily thrown around in the general direction on where he wanted them. And he was a goddamn idiot for wanting to order his own goddamn self-assembled coffee table. The fucking thing has been playing tricks on his mind for the last hour, he did everything by the instructions but still no luck, and he thought he might go insane if he had to try to redo it all over again for the seventh time.

He was frustrated as hell, and he needed a fucking outlet. If he were like Arthur or John, he'd start a bar fight to let off some steam, or attack a police officer like Ada and start a riot with Polly or, wait, what did Finn do? He mostly played video games with his mates or tried to hide how his friend Isaiah fucked him into a right mess. It was funny watching Finn act like nothing happened while walking around with a red face, hickeys on his neck, and a prominent limp that he had less luck in trying to play off than Tommy.

That's what he needed now. Someone to fuck the frustration out of him.

He could maybe act bratty enough that Campbell forgoes the dinner and takes him straight to his place, but that would be in another hour, and he was buzzing out of his skin now. 

He looked at his phone again, seeing the missed calls and messages from Campbell, but he purposefully didn't reply. He wanted to get absolutely destroyed tonight. And why not amp it up a little?

There were two missed calls from Alfie too that Tommy didn't even notice until now, as he left his phone on silent. Tommy played with the hem of his sweatshorts as he pressed redial and reached for his cigarettes. Alfie lived in London; now that Tommy lived here as well, they might have more opportunities to hook up. 

After the fourth ring, Alfie picked up, his comedic sing-song voice putting a smile on his face instantly, "Heya, treacle, thought you'd ignore me all day, you cheeky little cunt."

"Hello, Alfie," Tommy greeted as he dug out his lighter "Missed me so much?"

"Who wouldn't, sweetie?" Alfie chuckled, the noises of his bakery audible in the background, "Haven't had you in my bed for more than a month, a normal man might not take such offense as well as me. And then you deny me the pleasure of hearing your voice as well. That's just downright cruel, baby."

"Forgive my cold heart," Tommy chuckled as he lit up his cigarette and took a drag, "I moved into the new place today, I think I told you, so I was busy and didn't notice your calls. I've put my phone on silent since Campbell can't get off my ass even on my week off." He remembered the smoke detector and stood to move out onto the balcony.

"I don't blame him; it's a really nice ass. I wouldn't get off of it myself if I had the chance to have it under me again," Alfie rumbled with a dangerously low voice, not giving a shit about his employees overhearing him. His callousness never failed to turn Tommy on, be it the filth he talks or the way he fucks.

"Mm, would you like to have that chance right now?" Tommy purred as he stepped out to the fresh air, listening to the traffic and feeling the sweet cold breeze caressing his naked legs. He got used to shaving them baby smooth since his body hair started to grow out. It was scarce naturally, but Tommy knew how wild it made some men, like Alfie or Campbell, for example. He put one up on the railing to stretch it a bit as he continued in a coy tone, "I'm free until seven. You could come over now and help me break the bed in."

"My shift ends at seven, doll. I can't break free sooner than that."

"Just ask someone to cover for you. I know you did before, and the place won't burn down by you not being in there for the last hour before closing." Tommy leaned forward, his hand reaching his foot as he learned in those yoga videos. 

"Yeah, well, the kid I'd usually ask to do that isn't here today, so I can't really do that now, can I?"

"But I need you."

Tommy knew what his voice sounded like to Alfie's ears, and the way the older man's voice got rougher mirrored his naughty intentions, "Yeah? Do you, now, darling?"

"Mhm," Tommy licked at his lips and continued in a sultry tone, "I need a big and strong man to help me now. Someone good with their hands."

"And what do you want this big and strong man to do to you with their highly skillful hands, sweetheart?" Alfie sounded more than intrigued.

"Help me assemble my coffee table?" Tommy asked innocently, laughing at Alfie's frustrated groan at the other end. "Come on, I've been struggling with it for more than an hour, and I need a real handyman to do it, please? I know you're good at this type of stuff."

Tommy's only reference to that claim was that one time when Alfie fucked him so hard that the bed frame broke, and Alfie fixed it while Tommy was still lying fucked out on it.

"You naughty little bitch, you almost lured me in, fucking siren boy. And I foolishly thought you'd call just for my dick." Alfie grumbled, but there was plenty of humor coming through his voice, so Tommy might still have a chance.

"That is a given. As it happens, Mr. Handyman, I don't have any money, so I'd need to pay with my body." Tommy gave the theatrical dumb porn twink voice that he knew always made Alfie chuckle before switching to his honest tired tone, "Seriously, just help me assemble this fucking table and a few shelves, and I'll ride you so good."

"Adding shelves into the list too now, are we? Do I have to put together the fucking bed as well just to plow you on it?"

"I'll blow you for the shelves as a bonus. Come on; I've been doing this all day, and I haven't had a dick in three weeks. I'd be willing to spread my legs for anyone with a big cock who'd be willing to help me out at this point."

A sudden noise to his left made Tommy whip his head around, and it felt like his entire circulation stopped for a whole minute as he made eye contact with fucking James, not two meters from him. Of course, their flats had joined balconies, and the boy was reading outside just to choke on his tea at the absolute filth Tommy just spoke.

As James coughed and stuttered his apologies with a red face, Tommy quickly stubbed out his cigarette and rushed back inside. He won't be earning any best neighbor awards any time soon, huh.

He barely heard Alfie's rambling over his own hammering heartbeat, but something he said caught his attention before he could start spiraling from embarrassment.

"Yeah, well, I understand your eagerness now then; if it wasn't for Ezra, I might as well run to your flat now too, leave this bloody place to get you in my lap and-,"

"Who the fuck is Ezra?" Tommy surprised even himself with how cold and confrontational his voice became all of a sudden. He didn't want Alfie to think he's jealous or anything. He wasn't. That would be stupid.

Alfie must have thought that as well because he sounded like Tommy just asked the most insane question, "Who the fuck is Ezra? What do you mean, who the fuck is Ezra? I told you about him before, didn't I?"

"No, you didn't."

"Oh. Then I'm telling you now, yeah, don't get your panties in a twist," Alfie was outraged, talking as if Tommy just sent his mother off to hell, "He's a new boy I recently hired, right? Good lad, works the till just fine."

"And your cock too, I assume?" Tommy tried to keep his voice as neutral as possible, but Alfie must have sensed the venom behind it because he was almost shouting into the phone now.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, he does, Thomas. He knows all types of tricks and shit. He's a fucking pole dancer on the side, very impressive, yeah? That's how we fucking met. In the strip club, where I go to when you cancel our monthly hook-up to be with your fucking sugar daddy, and I don't want to be fucking depressed about it. He gave me some great head, and I hired him, and he still does in his free time; you're happy now?"

"Fuck off," Tommy didn't know why his words made his throat clench so painfully as he muttered, "You crossed a line, Alfie."

"You fucking what, sweetie?" he heard traffic in the background, so Alfie must have gone out to the alley to rant, "Don't fucking tell me about no line here like it wasn't you who established since the first time that you weren't looking for anything serious and this wasn't an exclusive thing. I asked you, Tommy. I fucking asked you twice if you wanted a real relationship, one without that bastard in it. And each time, you said no, because you were just looking for a bit of fun on the side while your main job is being the pretty little thing on the arm of a man that could easily be your father. You know how fucking depressing it feels to be second to some old geezer because the one you like is a fucking rent boy? To see the marks he'd leave on you before we meet, so I get the fucking message? You fucking chose this, treacle, don't act like the betrayed spouse, talking from your imaginary moral high-ground."

Tommy was stunned to silence for a moment before he quietly asked, "Does he want one?"

"What?"

"Ezra," Tommy swallowed, "Does he want a relationship?"

Now it was Alfie who fell silent for a few seconds before speaking again, no longer sounding angry, just tired, "Yeah. He does. He was asking me about letting him move in. He likes Cyrill." Unlike Tommy, who didn't care for dogs. "And I think I'll say yes."

His chest felt heavy, and the air felt cold. Tommy needed to sit down, no idea why he felt so weak all of a sudden, "Oh."

"Tommy," Alfie started, "I asked you before him if you wanted to date and if you wanted to live with me. And you said no."

"You know why I did, Alfie." Tommy brought up his knees to his chest, curling into a ball. He felt so cold all of a sudden. "Campbell would never let me."

"You don't fucking need that bastard, Tommy. I know your taste for luxury and your major daddy issues say otherwise, but you really don't." Fuck, that hurt. "I know you're worth more than what you sell yourself for."

"You don't know shit," There was a knock at the front door, and Tommy sniffled as he got up to get it. He wasn't about to cry; he must have just had a cold, prancing around in only a sweater and shorts. "Bye, Alfie."

"You know I like you, treacle. I like you more than any other fucking person on this bitch of an earth," Alfie rumbled, "and you know if you were to say yes, I would drop Ezra right this second. And Ezra is flawless. But you utterly bewitched me when I first laid my eyes on you."

Tommy reached for the handle, "I know, Alfie. I saw. Have a nice life with Ezra,"

Before Alfie could reply, Tommy hung up, opening his entrance; only to see James again before him. The boy had a toolkit in his hand and a shy smile on his face that dissolved as he better observed Tommy's face.

"Oh, uh, is everything alright? Sorry, I didn't mean to bother you, I just, uh. I heard you need some help? With assembling the coffee table and the shelves, right? I could do that for you if you want?"

Tommy wiped at his eyes, too tired to try to politely tell James to fuck off. He's been semi-dating Alfie for two years now, and they just fucking-

He cannot even think "break up," Alfie wanted someone else because he couldn't commit to him fully.

God, this was a fucking mess.

"Thank you. I'd appreciate that." Tommy opened the door wider and let the boy come through. "And I'm, um, I'm sorry that you had to hear that. I didn't notice that you were there."

James flailed his hands around with an embarrassed laugh, "Oh no, not at all, please, no, I'm-, I'm the one who should be sorry! I didn't mean to eavesdrop or anything, I-, you must think I'm some kind of a creep now."

Tommy cracked a sad smile, sitting cross-legged on the couch while watching Jame take his place on the floor and read the instructions to the coffee table, "Not at all. However, you must think I'm some kind of a pervert now."

James didn't meet his eyes, focusing on starting on the table as his ears turned red and stuttered, "Ah, I-, I wouldn't, really. What you say to your boyfriend is really none of my business, and I could never judge you for saying stuff like that."

Tommy curled into a ball again on the couch, picking at the black nail polish on his toes, "He's not my boyfriend." James looked up at him, but Tommy purposefully avoided meeting his gaze, "Although I would have liked him to be. But as it turns out, he has someone else. Someone who can do tricks and shit and is less depressing to be around. Someone who's flawless. They're moving in together, you know."

He didn't know why he was telling all this to James. It's not like he has anything to do with it, but it's not like he had any friends that he could talk to about things like this. And he rarely felt this fucking lonely or sad. Fucking Alfie.

Tommy didn't even realize James came closer until he felt his warm hand touch his cheek, wiping at a teardrop sliding down his cheekbone, and Tommy looked up to find him kneel incredibly close to him, the boy's face only a few inches from his own. 

"I'm sorry," James started softly, his eyes observing every inch of Tommy's face, "but if he could want anybody else when you're right there, then he is a bloody idiot who doesn't deserve you."

Tommy was distracted by James' comforting scent and words and handsome features and didn't notice how close the boy leaned until he could feel his breath ghosting over his lips. He thought about giving in and just kissing the other man, but he didn't want another Alfie situation on his hands; luring him in and leaving him high and dry because he couldn't give him what he wants. He didn't want to cause another disappointment and break his own heart further in the process.

"It's not his fault. I'm the difficult one," Tommy turned his face away and cleared his throat, getting up from the couch and walking over to the kitchen, leaving James dumbfounded on the floor. "Would you like some tea?"

James went right back to working on the table, awkwardly exclaiming, "Ah, yes, thank you, that would be lovely." Poor boy. "Can I just... Um, can I ask why you think you're the difficult one?"

Tommy sighed, but well, what harm would it do to be able to finally rant a bit, he's been the one that people ranted to for too long. He tossed the tea filters in the mugs a bit more aggressively than intended.

"I can't have a relationship. I'm in an arrangement where I can fuck around with one other person, with some limitations, of course, but I can't pursue anything further. My financial situation depends on this, and I support my family through it. He knew this, I knew this, and we were idiots thinking it'll all be fine, but it seems like that's not enough for him anymore, and I honestly can't blame him. No one wants to be just a lover."

"I'd be grateful to be your lover," James mumbled as he worked at an impressive pace, "Spending any time with you at all should be enough for him."

Tommy gave a sad little smile; he can't let James make a similar mistake, "No, it shouldn't. People shouldn't be other's playthings; I was fed up with being one myself and wanted one for me too." He poured out the hot water into the cups, his self-revelation hitting him hard, "I was just greedy and selfish and got what I deserved. Those who live by the sword, die by the sword, he used to say. And he's right, and I'm happy for him. Or I'll try to be. Once I piece myself back together."

He didn't notice how close James got again, the boy's steps were entirely silent despite how much bigger he was, and he jumped as the boy rumbled right behind him.

"You are such a kind person." 

Tommy whipped his head around to see James awfully close again, almost pressing him against the kitchen counter. Tommy had to crane his neck up to meet his gaze (fuck, how tall was he?) and found James staring down at him with the saddest labrador puppy eyes.

"You deserve so much better, even if you don't think so. You're a lovely person, Tommy. I wish I could do something to help you."

Tommy leaned as far back on the counter as possible; he was almost sitting on it, trying to keep the distance. He can't sully the boy. Tommy tried to sound casual and not jittery as he said, "Assembling my coffee table is really the best thing I can think of right now, James."

"It's done." And he wasn't lying; as Tommy looked behind him, the table seemed complete. James didn't even work on it for five minutes. How the fuck?

Tommy awkwardly moved past him to walk over to the table, and sure enough, it was a flawless job, "How did you-, I mean. T-thank you, this-, oh well, this was fast." He could see James' shadow looming over him, so it didn't come as that much of a surprise when he felt a large hand faintly touch at his hand.

Tommy just swallowed and let the taller man hesitantly rub his thumb over his fingers, the intensity of the situation making him shiver, every little touch feeling too hot. So James was definitely interested in him, huh.

"I would not mind," James whispered, lifting Tommy's hand to his face, and now Tommy had to turn and see the boy's lustful gaze looking back at him as he kissed the back of his hand. "I'd be honored to be your lover if you'd want me to be."

Tommy swallowed, and his lashes fluttered as James pressed more kisses onto his hand, making his mind numb and his cheeks heated.

"James, you don't even know me. You wouldn't-," he hesitantly mumbled, but the boy cut him off.

"I would love to, though," James eagerly replied, "Or if you don't want me to, that's alright. But you seem more interesting than anyone I've ever met before," he kissed Tommy's wrist, "You're enchanting. I think you bewitched me when I first saw you."

Tommy froze, remembering Alfie's words, and tried to pull his hand away as if burned. "I don't-, James, I can't.

"If you don't find me attractive, that's fine, don't worry, I won't be offended. I can just be your friend, and I won't force you into anything, I swear," James' big puppy eyes filled with anxious uncertainty, and he tried to awkwardly laugh off his self-consciousness, "I know I'm weirdly looking, I've been told. You deserve someone more suitably handsome."

That got him out of his own thoughts, and Tommy scoffed, cupping James' face in both hands, "Don't talk rubbish; you are handsome and attractive. There's nothing weird about you. That's not why I said that."

James laughed more honestly now, leaning into the touch, "Many would disagree with you on that note. Like my old classmates who called me dumbo. Or my father, who always said I'm a miserable wimp. My mother never disagreed with him on that; she can barely look at me. I've always been their least favorite child."

So he wasn't the only one in the mood to rant. Tommy caressed his face gently, taking pity on him. They were both miserable; the least they could do is comfort each other. "I'm my father's least favorite child too." He never admitted it out loud before, but it was true, nonetheless. "He always made fun of my looks; said I have dead fish eyes, or I look like a gaunt little frog." He didn't add how he used to sneer that he looked too much like his insane mother.

James immediately hurried to his defense enthusiastically, "What? That's so not true; you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen. Your eyes are like diamonds, and your entire face is just heavenly. You look like an angel. I may be a wimp, but I'd fight anyone that says otherwise."

Tommy bashfully looked away, but his hands were kept in place by James, so he couldn't run away from the closeness again, "Thank you, but you really don't have to do that."

"I know, but I would like to if you don't mind," James smiled at him honestly, and it became infectious as Tommy recalled the boy saying the exact same thing that morning when he helped him. "Can I kiss you?"

Tommy startled at that and bit at his bottom lip. The situation was heated, and he could feel the electricity crackle between them, but he doesn't think that would be a good decision.

James noticed Tommy's frightened expression and stepped away, letting him go as he stuttered, "If you don't want to, that's fine; I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything. God, you must think I'm an asshole now, moving on you so aggressively. I'm so sorry."

Tommy also felt the need to apologize, pinching at the bridge of his nose, "No, I don't, this is my fault, I keep giving you mixed signals, I'm sorry. I do find you attractive, James, very much so," he tried not to get overwhelmed by how that lit up the boy's face, "but I really don't want to hurt you, and this is all a bit too sudden for me, so you know, let's just stay friends, okay? I really like you, and I don't want to ruin this."

"Yeah, no, cool, that's fine, of course, you're right. I'd love to be friends, sure," James was ready to sink into the ground from embarrassment as he moved towards the door, and Tommy thought, well, so much for trying not to ruin this. "I'll uh. I'll let you get ready for your dinner with your dad. And hey, if you have some time after, we could watch a movie if you want, or I could fix up your shelves, haha."

Fuck, it was almost seven?! 

Tommy looked at his phone, and sure enough, time flew by with James around. He had fifteen minutes before Campbell would pick him up. Shit.

He hastily looked around; the place was a goddamn mess. He needed to take a shower and get dressed, lube himself up, put a plug in; Campbell rarely had the patience to open him up. As he heard the door open, he shouted back, "James, wait!"

"Yes?" James turned back from the door with a hopeful smile as Tommy rushed to the kitchen and then back to him.

"Take your tea," Tommy pressed the mug into his hand, "Payment for your help."

James gave an awkward chuckle, trying to mask his disappointment politely, and nodded, "Ah, thank you, you're very kind-,"

"And this too," Tommy got on his tiptoes and craned his neck to give a small kiss to James' mouth. It lasted all of a few seconds, and James was far too stunned to properly respond before Tommy pulled away and quickly closed the door into his face.

Tommy's heart hammered out of his chest as he leaned against the door again and cupped his face in his hands.

So much for being so fucking wise and telling the boy no. Why the fuck would he do that? He was utterly fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this leave a kudo and a comment, they make my day, and check me out on Tumblr @abusivelittlebunny for updates, art, and horny rambling!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy and Campbell have their dinner and a fair share of problems...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigh, no one is happy so buckle up kiddos...   
> Also the referenced things are pretty briefly referenced so don't worry!

The restaurant had low lighting, only the bar illuminated with sharper lamps, warm candles glowing on each table, accentuating the dark wood of the furniture and the red bricks on the walls, creating a mysterious and romantic atmosphere, all very intimate and chic. 

It was also cold and damp and reminded Tommy more of a glorified wine cellar rather than a place where a Cesar salad was reasonably worth fifty quid. He scoffed at Campbell, who let himself be talked into the most expensive whiskey on the menu to pair with his steak and reminded himself that rich people were indeed stupid. 

Tommy wondered if he'll lose his mind without noticing once he gets too comfortable with the wealth Campbell provided him with for their transaction. Or will he feel the faint breeze of rationality slip through his fingers like sand, unable to go back from it once it started pouring?

Tommy has been watching the light dance in his drink as he gently rolled the glass for ten minutes, completely zoning out of what Campbell was saying about workplace protocol. Here he was in an award-winning London restaurant in a Valentino suit and a sheer couture shirt with accessories worth more than his home back in Birmingham, with a man that paid for anything he'd want, and he couldn't even savor it. He might have jumped out of his skin in excitement a couple years ago by this, but now he was entirely too distracted by the situation he got himself into with his new neighbor.

He kissed James. 

After he told him he would rather not, when the boy asked, like a fucking hypocrite; giving that whole speech to James about how people shouldn't be other's playthings and how Alfie was right to seek a real relationship and then just erasing all his good deed in one swoop. The problem was Tommy felt less guilt than excitement. 

James was eager and innocent (couldn't even think about the word "daddy" having a meaning besides one's biological father), and he was still very young. Even if Tommy turns out to be everything he has warned him about and he falls to a similar fate as Alfie, he'll be able to move on; his life is still ahead of him. Besides, the boy fell for him in less than a day; a person like that will have no trouble finding someone else to be devoted to if Tommy can't give him what he wants.

He told James about the situation at hand, and the boy still volunteered to be his lover. Tommy didn't want to take advantage of him, but maybe this is a good chance for the both of them to play around a bit. James was handsome enough to get a different partner for every day of the week, but he didn't seem to realize that and judging by what he said, it was due time for someone to give him a bit more confidence. And it just so happened that Tommy needed a trustworthy and harmless man that could satisfy him, and James appeared cut out for the job.

He will need a few weeks to learn more about him, of course; he cannot just open his legs so fast for him and let the boy have his fun, even if that's his first instinct. Tommy hates to be considered cheap and first impressions are crucial. He will need to draw up a plan, a strategy, to reach the desired outcome with James; he cannot mess this up now, not after Alfie. 

He needs the boy's support, love, and devotion, as well as a safety net, all while still maintaining a relationship that could get cut off when necessary painlessly. Tommy also needs to train the boy to get from him exactly what he likes and how he likes it. James appeared at first glance pretty vanilla, but by now, he knew the most innocent looking people hide the filthiest kinks; not that he minds that, but he had preferences.

He can't act like a needy slag, bouncing on him when the boy offers, even if he looks like an excellent shag, and Tommy was all too keen to find out what James looked like under that hoodie or what he hid in his pants. Tommy could bet James came out at the right end of puberty, and the ears weren't the only things big on the boy. With that height, it would only be reasonable to assume that he has a wonderfully proportionate-

"Are you thinking about dick, Thomas?"

Campbell's unimpressed tone brought Tommy out of his racing thoughts. He only realized how much time may have passed by how Campbell was almost down to the last bites of his meal. He's glad he ordered a salad; at least there's no concern about that getting cold.

Tommy remained unfazed, blinking slowly up at the older man as if he didn't just hit the nail right on the head. 

"Do you honestly believe that just because I'm a whore I only think about dick? That's a bit condescending, isn't it?" But also correct. Tommy stabbed more food on his fork than he usually would, trying to make up for the time he spent daydreaming.

"You have a specific way of licking your lips when you're thinking about something naughty, and that has a subcategory of certain male genitalia. I could write a guide about the categories of how you satiate your oral fixation and their hidden meanings, but I'm afraid I don't have that much time in my life." Campbell smirked up at him, watching Tommy glare through his salad-stuffed mouth. "You're just a naturally indecent creature; it's endlessly fascinating."

"You won't have enough time in your life to order dessert if you keep acting like a prick." Tommy remarked, but with a hint of humor that Campbell always caught onto; the bickering love-hate relationship they slipped into came all too naturally. Like an old married couple. Tommy never understood the phrase "can't live with them, can't live without them" before meeting Campbell, and now it was his fucking life motto.

"But you love pricks so much, darling, and I want to accommodate to your taste as you deserve, sugarplum," Campbell smiled with the mocking loving husband tone before switching back to normal, "Speaking of accommodation, how do you enjoy the apartment? I hope it's not too drab."

Tommy sighed, taking another bite before speaking again. "The place is lovely, thank you, very spacious and light, but I could tear my hair out from all the packing and unpacking; it's so frustrating. I tried to assemble a coffee table for more than an hour," he purposefully didn't mention the help James provided in that regard. Campbell didn't need to know about his potential new lover yet; he wasn't even sure if James was really up to the job.

"Well, we know that at least you still have that pretty face, if no technical skills," Campbell replied without missing a beat, finishing his meal and neatly placing his utensils on the plate. 

"And here I thought you keep me around for my technical skills in the bedroom," Tommy snorted.

"A bit too confident for a pillow princess, but you do have remarkable skills on that field, I admit."

"Well, one of us has to," Tommy smirked at him over the rim of his glass before taking a sip, Campbell returning it with the shake of his head, raising his own drink.

"That mouth will be the death of you, Thomas." 

"Or maybe yours, grandpa. Sometimes when you come in my mouth, I wonder if this one will be the time for the heart attack to hit. Would it be a tragedy or an accomplishment? Either way, I'd put it on my business card."

Campbell's glare was venomous, but Tommy knew him enough that he could sense the first drips of arousal in it. Campbell liked to pretend that he was annoyed and at the brink of strangling him to death, but they both knew he enjoyed Tommy's wit. He let Tommy act the brat because they both knew what delicious punishment and hate-sex would follow his misbehavior. After which, they would turn disgustingly sweet and domestic. And then the circle of their relationship would keep rolling. They both got their kicks out of this, and sometimes Tommy felt frighteningly satisfied with their arrangement.

"Can't even wait to get home, hm? You want me to put you over the table, you naughty brat?" Campbell's voice slipped lower, the kind of whiskey rough that Tommy wanted to lick from his mouth.

"No, daddy," Tommy matched the tone before leaning back and rolling his eyes, "There will be plenty of opportunities for that in the workplace, as that will be my new mock job." His mood shifted with the reminder of the day's events. 

Campbell cleared his throat, following Tommy's example in trying to go back to normal, to avoid getting banned from the restaurant for fucking him in the middle of it. "Contrary to what you may think, the job I'm giving you is real and important, and I expect you to treat it as such. You're an intelligent boy, Thomas; it would be a pity not to do anything with all your potential."

Tommy scoffed, "Please, I'll be your blowup doll in a sexy secretary outfit. Don't pretend you value me beyond a warm hole to shove your dick into; we both know you just wanted an excuse to have me under your desk in the office. I know what I'm worth to you."

Campbell furrowed his brows, quiet for a long moment, and Tommy hated how he almost looked concerned as if he actually loved him; it made his skin prickle. Tommy shoveled his food in his mouth to avoid meeting his gaze. 

"Well, clearly not if that's how you think I'm seeing you. If I regarded you as just a loose prostitute, I wouldn't have kept you around for ten years, not to mention giving you a high-ranking position in my company. We both know it's not just your silver tongue that is sharp, and you'd benefit me outside of the bedroom as well."

"Yes, I'm a great paperweight," Tommy snorted, still not looking at Campbell, Alfie's words seeping into his mind again. Why did they stick to him so painfully? The tightening of his chest irritated him beyond measure.

"Thomas," Campbell sighed tiredly. "You just come from a bad situation; if you had the resources that I had from the start, you'd be leading a far more powerful company rivaling if not overthrowing mine, of that I am sure, however much I hate to admit it. You usually are the one reminding me of that, not the other way around. Did something happen that popped your fragile ego, sweetheart?"

"No," Tommy finished his food and threw his fork into the empty plate, making it clatter louder than intended. "I'm just tired. And I hate it when you lie to me so fucking blatantly like I'm a bloody child." His anger was slipping, Tommy knew, but he couldn't stop it from flowing out of him, "I don't need your fucking pity and fairytales of how you see me as more than what I am. I know what I got myself into; this isn't fucking  _ Pretty Woman _ , where the client rescues the poor prostitute, and they fall in love and live happily ever after. You're an old rich guy that pays to stick his dick in a rent boy he scraped off the side of the street, simple transaction, end of story. So stop fucking lying; you won't unlock some super blowjob for it."

Campbell's eyes silently bore into his skull for a minute that felt more like an hour, and Tommy sincerely hoped that the shameful red on his cheeks wasn't noticeable in the low lighting. His throat felt tight, and his eyes itched, but he needed to remind himself, he had to say it. Alfie was fucking right. 

"Alright, so something definitely happened," Campbell cleared his throat and continued with an annoyingly understanding voice, "I won't even bother to try to deny your ridiculous little outburst; you're clearly not in the mindset to accept the facts I've laid out before. I don't know what triggered your self-deprecating and wretched state, but I won't let you drown in it." He took a deep breath, staring out the window and just thinking for a moment before he spoke again, quieter this time with a distasteful grimace. "Do you need more time with that scruffy baker of yours? Normally I wouldn't stand for it, but clearly, you need a bit more attention and care now, so I'm willing to loosen the rules."

Tommy wanted to fucking sob, but he masked it with a painful strained laugh. "No, thank you. You won't have to worry about Alfie again either," swallowing felt so hard, and he dug his nails into his forearms as he tried to keep his voice steady, "It's over. We won't be seeing each other anymore."

Campbell deserved a fucking Oscar for attempting to mask his ecstatic delight at the news and gave a solemn, "Oh," trying to remain empathetic and supporting while probably dancing around in joy in his mind. "I'm sorry about that. May I ask why?"

"He found someone else," Tommy rested his jaw on his palm, the weight of the day collapsing on his shoulders, "Someone fucking flawless, that didn't have a sugar-daddy or depressed him, and loved his fucking dog."

Campbell rolled his eyes at the title bestowed on him, "Well, now at least I know what caused your foul mood. Don't worry about that bastard, darling; he never deserved you."

"No, I didn't deserve him," Tommy buried the heels of his palms in his eye sockets, trying to force back the tears threatening to spill, uncaring about smudging his eyeshadow and mascara. "The fact that he put up with me for this long is a fucking miracle. He was right to leave; I'm the worst."

"Bloody hell, Thomas, the rubbish you talk sometimes." Campbell scoffed, "You really are better off without that dumb fucker, if he made you feel this miserable. Stop whining about it and move on; take this as a learning experience and grow from it, Thomas. Little lovers like that are quite childish anyway. It's time you start acting like an adult."

Tommy looked up with the best icy glare he could manage with his makeup most probably ruined and tears still sparkling in his eyes, "Then what would you call keeping me around during your fucking marriages? I was your little lover then."

"That situation was different." Campbell glared back, not keen on being reminded that particular time. "You know that just as well as I, that they're not even comparable."

"Why? Because you paid me for it? Because you had wives?" Tommy tilted his head with a cruel grin, "Or because I was sixteen like your fucking son-"

"Enough, Thomas." Campbell's tone was dangerously low and threatening, but Tommy couldn't stop; he wanted to hurt Campbell as he hurt him. It's his fault Alfie couldn't stand him anymore. 

"-Who still doesn't fucking talk to you and is sick at the thought of what a dirty old man his dad is, fucking a boy his age that calls you daddy-,"

"I said ENOUGH," Campbell raised his voice for only that word but quickly caught himself, uncomfortable by the attention of the other guests. 

Tommy loved when Campbell lost his cool. He loved that he could hurt him too. It was a pathetic victory, but that's all he had right now that didn't make him feel worthless.

Campbell's anger simmered barely under the surface as he smoothed down his suit and summoned the waiter. "We'll have the check, please."

Tommy pouted innocently, as if he didn't just bring up the most painful thing in the older man's life, "But I wanted to have dessert."

Campbell called back the waiter, "One espresso, and the check, please."

Even this little row had Tommy feeling good, well, not good, but it felt better to have the rush of a fight than to be depressed about Alfie. He thrived in Campbell's silent rage as he drove them home, and Tommy whined like a brat on purpose when they passed his building.

"Hey, drop me off at my place; I told you I wouldn't be up to perform tonight." That wasn't true, he desperately needed to get fucked, but he had to get Campbell to be extra rough tonight. He wanted to forget about Alfie.

"I don't give a shit. You said it yourself; this is a simple transaction. You'll have to hold up your own end for it, whether you like it or not. You're the fucking whore."

Tommy turned to glare at Campbell, who was still fuming at the road. He really hurt his feelings with that comment, huh? His son probably still doesn't take his calls.

Tommy has been to Campbell's posh townhouse on plenty of occasions, and he fully expected to follow the older man up to the bedroom the moment the front door closed. But instead, Campbell took to the living room on the ground floor, still not talking to Tommy, storming past him after shrugging out of his overcoat and placing it on the hanger. Tommy followed, taking off his own coat and letting it fall to the floor as he leaned against the wall and just waited for Campbell to do what he wanted to do. 

He expected shouting, hitting, maybe just taking him by the scruff of his neck and bending him over the couch, but Campbell just silently ignored him and worked on getting the fireplace lit.

On their more tender days, they sometimes fell into each other's embrace in front of it, Tommy snuggling up to Campbell's side as he read, or they watched something on tv, enjoying the warmth and each other's company. Tommy still remembers the first day Campbell got the place, during his second divorce, and said, "we can do whatever the fuck we want here," and after fucking on the kitchen counter, as one would expect, they just cuddled on the couch and watched the fire. They didn't have to hide away here, worrying about Campbell's wife or son or a maid barging in; it was their safe space.

So seeing him poke around the wood to get it properly going made the ice on Tommy's heart slowly melt from the memories.

"I'm sorry," Tommy's voice was quiet enough that he would have questioned whether Campbell heard him, if not for how he stopped his ministrations and stood up, still not looking in his direction. "I just felt like shit, and I wanted to inflict that on you too."

Campbell sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing at his eyes tiredly, "I know, Thomas. And I'm not angry about what you may think I am angry about; I'm more disappointed." He finally looked back at Tommy with a shrug, "You're correct, Pete doesn't like to be around me, but he never did; he was his mother's son, and I wasn't a perfect father, neither is anyone else's. Our relationship was just the icing on the cake of why he hates me. Don't think I never felt shame for using a boy thirty years younger than me to satiate my desires. But I learned to move past it after ten years."

Tommy stood frozen as Campbell sauntered closer; this vulnerable, tired part of him was a rare sight, something that the older man locked back up quickly after accidentally letting it slip, and seeing him so honest almost frightened Tommy. He felt more comfortable with Campbell's rage and condescending prickly remarks; this felt like he was being handed Campbell's heart on a silver platter. And for once, he didn't just want to stab it through with a fork.

His lashes fluttered as Campbell caressed a hand over his cheek, watching each other in silence for a long minute. He observed every wrinkle, every pore, every hair on Campbell's face. Tommy swallowed while thinking the old fucker was handsome. 

He aged with grace and listened to Tommy after being told on their first hookup that his mustache was too old school and a beard would benefit him. Thinking about it now, Campbell took most of his advice to improve his style, health, and behavior. Ate clean, worked out more, took time to relax and care for himself. He looked better than he did ten years ago, somehow. 

And he knew that was most likely true the other way around as well. He was less dangerously thin than when Campbell complained about his bones digging into his skin in their first year together; Tommy ate more, not worrying about saving food for the others any longer, and gave up morphine. He also smoked and drank far less than he used to as a troubled teenager, his skin and scent thanking him for it. Tommy took advantage of the financial support he received, and treated himself to skincare products and gym memberships, sometimes playing tennis with the other man. They were both in much better health than when they first met.

They bickered a lot, but they truly made the other better. Maybe that's why Tommy couldn't leave, besides the money.

Tommy wondered why he felt so exposed, even when he wasn't the one opening up. 

"I'm disappointed that you let some nobody tell you that you're not worth his time, and you get your cold little heart broken over this man that could give you nothing while I've done everything to keep you." Campbell sounded angry and frustrated, but mostly just exhausted, "You let him generalize you into a simple whore to a miserable old man when there's so much more to you, and you shouldn't accept that to be the fucking period to your existence. You got into this job because you were in a desperate situation, and you are good at it; there's no shame in admitting that. I paid you seeking that service then, now I pay you because I want to take care of you."

The hand on his face pulled back, Tommy watching as Campbell dug around in the inner pocket of his suit-jacket before bringing out a little velvet box.

"I want to keep taking care of you in the future, Thomas. I want to keep you here with me, no matter the price." Campbell's voice slipped lower as he opened the box.

Tommy's breath caught at the sight of the golden ring with the large emerald stone in the middle, encrusted with diamonds and sitting gingerly on the red velvet pillow, shining with hidden promises enchanting his mind. He looked up into Campbell's eyes, then back down at the ring, then back up at least five times.

"I've been carrying this around for a good few years now if I'm honest. I made sure to get you something more expensive and prettier than for either of my previous wives; I knew you'd like that. My pretty little magpie." Campbell gave a little chuckle, watching Tommy's mesmerized expression. "Now that that dreadful dirty baker is out of the picture, I feel more comfortable asking you this question. I want to get serious with you, Thomas; show you your worth beyond a simple whore. You're smart, sharp, talented, gorgeous, enchanting, and worthy of more. And I can give that to you, like no one else. I love you, Thomas. Marry me."

The air felt nonexistent; Tommy couldn't fucking breathe, let alone think. He honestly thought he was going to pass out. All these emotions came crashing down on him like a fucking tsunami, and he had no idea which was which at this point.

First, there was confusion, as if Campbell spoke an entirely different language and made no sense, then there was excitement, dare he say joy, his stomach feeling like it was going to burst, and he wanted to throw himself at the older man, kiss him silly and ride him to heaven and back, but that was all crushed by dread and fear. 

His family has no idea about Campbell. They don't know he's been a prostitute throughout his teenage years to get food on the table. All they know is that Tommy has been working as a paid intern, and now he stepped up the ladder with honest work to show a good example to the others, to fucking Finn. 

If he marries Campbell now, they'll realize it's all been fake. They'll fucking see that he's no respectable businessman, and he had to whore himself out to get a well-paying job. That he isn't as smart and useful as he wanted them to believe. They'll know that he is nothing more than a fucking lying hooker and hate him for it. He can't fucking let his family hate him; they're all he has.

He didn't even realize he was crying until Campbell's thumb was wiping at his cheek, and he felt warm kisses on the other, inching down to the edge of his mouth.

"It's alright, Thomas, I'll take care of you," Campbell whispered into his skin, "I'll take so good care of you, baby boy; you won't have to worry about anything. Daddy's got you."

Tommy sobbed and kissed back, opening up and letting the older man kiss him gently, lapping up the sweetness before he pulled back, shaking uncontrollably.

"I..." Tommy hiccuped, looking up at Campbell with pure shame, "I'm sorry... I-I can't. Please. I just... I can't. I can't let them find out. Please, I'm so sorry."

Watching Campbell's mood shift from delight to pure unadulterated rage in real-time was a terrifying sight, one that didn't help Tommy's shakes in the least bit. It was gradual and unstoppable; no matter how many times Tommy apologized, his face turned darker and darker shades of red, the veins at his forehead slowly emerging, and his nostrils flaring. Few things have got Campbell in such a state during their years together, but those were very memorable and still very painful events. Tommy knew by now the best choice for his safety in cases like this would be to run.

But he was a stupid fucking idiot that felt like he entirely deserved this pain to be inflicted upon him. 

Tommy carefully took the little box out of Campbell's hand, placing it on the mantlepiece before coming back and kissing Campbell all over his face, softly whispering amongst his tears.

"It's alright, go on, just not the face," Tommy caressed his hands over Campbell's jaw before hurriedly taking off his clothes in anticipation of what was about to happen, "It won't heal until Monday, so not above the collar, please. Or people in the office will talk. I know you want to, but not now." 

Campbell was still standing frozen in anger as Tommy shred his clothes and placed them in a neat pile. He was still processing the rejection even as Tommy finished with his own clothing and started helping Campbell out of his suit-jacket, taking off his tie amongst reassuring words, folding up his sleeves to his elbows, undoing his first few buttons, and unbuckling his belt.

"It's okay; it's all going to be fine, Daddy," Tommy pulled his belt out of his loops, folding it once and placing it in Campbell's hand, squeezing it like a love confession and kissing him while he still allowed it, "Just keep to the other parts, please, not above the collar. For your own sake, okay? You don't want them to think you hired someone with a questionable background."

Campbell let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes for a second and letting out a humorless chuckle, "This is why I love you the most, you dumb little bitch." 

Tommy thought it was a good call that he didn't get to order dessert because it surely would have come up from the force of the punch Campbell landed in his guts, making him double over in pain and wheeze. There was a mean grip in his hair, then a knee in his chest, before he was thrown on the ground, where kicks hammered away to his sides and soft spots. Tommy just wrapped his arms around his head and let it happen, not fighting back in the slightest, which angered Campbell further as he took to using the belt in his hand. Rather the belt than letting Campbell get creative on his own, and find other functions for the fire poker not two meters away from where Tommy lay.

"You dirty, ungrateful little shit," Campbell shouted, letting his fury run free, "You think you're fucking better than me, is that it?! You, the bloody fucking druggie gypsy whore, that sold himself for fucking fifty quid at a gas station,  ** you  ** are ashamed of  _ me _ ?! Not me, a respectable upstanding businessman, I'd be willing to raise you out of the fucking gutter, but you. After I fucking treated you like a goddamn princess, when you're no more than a filthy harlot, crying over a fucking lower class brute that saw what a worthless little slut you were. And I was fucking consoling you. I was ready to fucking marry you, you bloody-,"

Tommy tuned out most of what Campbell was saying, letting his mind go numb together with his body as the pain became so intense, it was almost nonexistent, and just watching the rug in the crevice between his forearms. He remembers how Campbell took him to the Persian rug boutique and let him choose this one. It had blue flowers on it amongst the intricate red and golden pattern. He was almost disappointed seeing some of his blood staining it where Campbell lashed out hard enough that he broke the skin. 

His back, sides, torso, ass, and thighs felt like they were on fire, aching with every breath he took by the time Campbell dropped the belt and collapsed on the couch, his insults dying away. Tommy slowly looked up, his eyes tracing up from the rug to Campbell's Italian designer shoes, up to his dark suit pants to where his elbows rested on his knees, hiding his face in his palms for a minute before smoothing back his hair. Campbell took a deep breath, clearing his throat, raw from shouting for God knows how long, and leaned back against the couch, tapping his thigh twice.

"Come here, Thomas." 

The command was quiet, but Tommy knew better than to hesitate and winced as he crawled over on his hands and knees, sitting between Campbell's spread thighs, waiting for further commands.

Campbell stared at his face for a long minute, breathing heavily from the strain of beating Tommy, before scoffing and waving a hand dismissively. "Just suck me off and then wash your face; you look disgusting."

Tommy did not doubt that; when he wiped at his cheek, it came away wet and stained with his makeup. He sniffled as he opened Campbell's pants without a word, not playing around as usual or acting coy, and took him down his throat at the first drag. He relaxed into the musky scent that was so uniquely Campbell and enjoyed the salty heavy weight on this tongue, stretching his mouth. Campbell also sighed, smoothing his palm over Tommy's hollowed cheek and bucking into the comfortable wet heat, brushing Tommy's hair out of his eyes to watch his face, look him in the eyes. He knew when Campbell called him "disgusting," he really meant "beautiful."

Tommy sloppily slurped and bobbed his head, letting himself slip into the comfortable habit of sucking dick as Campbell roughly dragged him up and down by his hair, fucking his face angrily, barely letting him breathe after a while. It was alright; Tommy liked it that way, his moans wanton, and his prick hard between his thighs. He knew better than to touch it; he would always need Campbell's permission for that if he didn't want to get his wrist broken.

"Maybe you're right, and you are nothing more than a warm and snug hole for my cock," Campbell sneered, angling Tommy's face to get the best view. "Maybe this really is all that you will ever be good for; not a wife, but a fucking inferior bitch."

Tommy's muffled mewls sounded so fucking weak and pitiful, his tears flowing freely as he moved his head faster, sucked his cheeks in harder, trying to give Campbell everything he had to offer as he took him down to the root. Campbell kept him there, his grip relentless as he fucked his throat for the last few merciless pumps before coming with a grunt, and Tommy could only take it, his chest aching from the lack of air, his head hazy, and his cock painfully hard, drooling onto the rug.

Tommy let out a thankful little noise as Campbell let him come up just enough to be able to breathe through his nose, his airway no longer completely clogged, the last few spurts hitting his tongue and letting him swallow at his own pace. Tommy made sure to do a good job at cleaning Campbell up with his tongue, warming his spent cock in his mouth for a good ten minutes, and enjoying the lazy petting of his hair before pulling back slowly. He pressed a few grateful kisses onto his member as he tucked him carefully back into his pants and looked up sheepishly.

"Can I please come, Daddy?" Tommy bat his lashes, resting his cheek on Campbell's thigh, trying to relax even with his hard-on driving him insane with want.

Campbell scoffed, coming down from the high of his orgasm, and kicked Tommy off of him, the impact agonizing to his tender body.

"Between the two of us, I'm not the one whose job is to get people off. Do what you want, just don't dirty the rug. You'll be sleeping on it." Campbell got up, smoothing down his shirt and gathering his jacket and tie that Tommy neatly placed to the side. He turned back one last time before heading out of the living room. "The bed is reserved for the wife while the bitch stays on the floor. You made your choice, Thomas."

Tommy watched him go, then curled up into a ball on the rug, seeking the warmth of the fire, whimpering at the pressure on his bruises, but with Campbell leaving him, it felt unbearably cold. His teeth clattered together, and his whole body was shivering; the only things warm were the tears rolling down his cheeks and Campbell's come in his clenching belly.

Alfie hated him. Campbell hated him. His family is going to hate him soon enough. He will always be alone. And he deserved it.

Both men were right; this is all he's ever going to be good for; even if they only said those things out of anger, they had been based on reality. Tommy watched the fire, waiting for Campbell to come back, scoop him up, embrace him and kiss his cheeks and give him the aftercare he normally would, but after more than an hour of waiting, Tommy gave up on the idea. He didn't deserve it anyway.

He sniffled and winced as he put his clothes back on, every movement agonizing on his bruises, but he finally managed, not bothering with his buttons. He noticed how Campbell left his belt on the floor, and he picked it up, grimacing in pain as he bent over, taking note of the dried blood on the dark leather. He shook his head and went to the kitchen, wetting a napkin and wiping the belt off carefully, then drying it and placing it on the table for him to find it when he comes down for breakfast. 

He soundlessly took his coat off the floor and shrugged it on before making his way to the entrance hall and quietly leaving through the front door. Now he was glad that his new flat was not ten minutes away on foot from Campbell's townhouse, limping home with his teeth still clattering. He pulled the fuzzy black coat around himself tighter, but it did nothing from subsiding the cold as if it came from the inside.

Tommy completely zoned out, his head empty as he reached his building, as he made his way up in the elevator, and as he fumbled around with his keys to open his door, he felt so numb it was almost more painful than the bruises. His hands were shaking so much, and his vision was blurry, even dropping the key and just sighing as he had to bend over again to pick it up.

He barely noticed the door behind him opening up, if not for James' cheerful voice cutting through his hazy state like a hot knife through the ice. Jagged and making him simmer.

"Ah, Tommy, you're home! How was your-," James abruptly stopped, the happiness slapped off his face as Tommy half turned towards him. Christ, he must look a fucking mess if even this labrador puppy got violently repulsed by it. James was almost pressed up against him again, hurrying over with three long strides and treating him like Tommy was made of the finest fucking china. "Oh, God. Tommy, what happened? Are you hurt?"

What did it matter? Tommy hurt everyone that got close to him.

"No, James, I'm fine. Thank you," that must not have been enough because James tried to gently turn Tommy's body towards himself, inspecting his face far too closely for comfort. "I'm just tired. Please, don't worry about it."

"Would you like me to call someone? A relative? A friend? The police? Do you need a doctor? Tommy, I'm serious; you don't look fine at all. Would you like to talk about it?" James was very sweet, but his concerned voice only managed to make Tommy feel even more miserable.

"No, no, please, just..." he finally managed to fit the key in and turn it, unlocking the door, "Just stay the fuck away from me, James."

Tommy didn't wait for his reply as he shook his gentle touch off and slammed the door behind himself after he got through it, right in James' face, leaning against the door and sliding down to the floor for the third time that day.

Tommy sobbed and let his head fall back against the door, ignoring James' insistent knocking and nervous calling. 

He no longer tried to fight back the sadness and let it wash over him like a waterfall.

This was, by all means, the worst fucking day of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this and if you did please leave a kudo and a comment and tell me about it! I enjoy them greatly + find me on Tumblr @abusivelittlebunny for more content

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this leave a kudo and a comment, they make my day, and check me out on Tumblr @abusivelittlebunny for updates, art, and horny rambling!


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